Sixteen thousand words by the end of the first week. That personally is quite a feat for someone who has never written a single creative work in his life, save for the occasional high school emo poetry. Even so, most of the stuff I’ve over the years have been more matter-of-fact. From teen advice columns to even my own thesis, there isn’t much there that could be left to using my imagination (except for maybe my thesis but we’ll keep that between you and me).
So yes, I am a tad bit proud of what I’ve done so far and for what it’s worth, I’m a little ahead of the curve right about now which is a very good thing. Still, it’s hard trying to juggle work, play and Nanowrimo at the same time. It amazes me every time to see people writing more than twice I have achieved in a single week, let alone those that have already finished 50k words within the first week alone. I just have to remind myself that I was born and trained as a scientist rather than as a writer. The fact that creative works flow out of me at all is good enough. The fact that they flow out enough to complete my set daily word count could be considered a damn miracle.
So without further ado, I present to you excerpts of my latest chapter, which was originally supposed to be the second half of chapter 3 but ended up too long for my liking so I gave it a chapter of its own. As per usual, comments, feedback and encouragements are most welcome. Hope you like it.
Another action packed scene!
Emma stood over the spread out carcass, with no hint of squeamishness for what she was about to do. She began to skin the deer with the machete. Slowly peeling and rolling back the fur, Emma amazingly made short work of it. Even though it would have been easier to do it while the animal was still warm, she knew what she was doing. Once a long time ago, during happier times, Emma had followed her uncles hunting. Even though they never showed her how to use a gun, she was taught how to skin the game that they caught. She was no stranger to butchering flesh.
Then Emma stopped dead in her tracks. The cavalier mood of the moment suddenly replaced by a hightened sense of awareness. She had heard something go snap in trees didn’t she? Emma held her breath, waiting to hear something again, but she heard nothing, nothing at all. Not a bird chirping, not even sound of insects. It was as if sound had been switched off and for a moment, Emma wondered if she had temporarily gone deaf. She didn’t. She heard the sound of a breaking twig again, this time coming from the trees on her left.
With the machete in her hand, Emma slowly advanced to where she heard the sound. When she got to where it was, she saw nothing there, but Emma couldn’t have been dreaming. The deathly silence of the woods was starting to scare her. Then without warning, Emma heard a moan coming from the trees to the right, she turned to find a zombie advancing towards her in an slow limping gait. Because they were on a mountain, the terrain was slightly uneven with sparse foilage around. The zombie had trouble trying to get to her. It looked like it was trying harder to keep its balance than it was to try and rend her flesh from bone.
It was that moment that Emma would remember as the defining point in the zombie apocalypse. The zombies weren’t scary at all. Their rotting, ashen grey and bloodied faces might shock you if they suddenly pop out in the middle of the night. Yet right here and now, alone in the day, faced with a zombie that was tripping over sloping ground and some leafy vines, Emma had the urge to laugh at the sight of it. It was just a walking carcass, no different from the deer she had skinned a few minutes before. Sure it was willing to kill and eat you, or worse, turn you into one of them, but at the most primal level, it was just a hunk of flesh that shouldn’t be up in the first place, like a game that had been shot but not killed, still struggling with its fight or flight response. So Emma did the best thing she was taught to as a child.
She stepped to the side, aimed for the base of the neck, swung as hard as she could and lobbed off the poor zombie’s head.
I took a dare out from the Nanowrimo threads. Considering I am writing about vampires, it gave me great pleasure to poke fun out of Twilight.
Emma’s lightly tanned skin was not the product of sunbathing, she was born with it. It was possible that she had Latin American or Mediterranean blood in her. Trevor didn’t know. Like Emma, he never asked about her past. For Trevor at least it was always about the present and the future. What laid in the past, stayed in the past. People would think that such hidden details would turn people into strangers and put pressure on a relationship, but people are such sticklers for things that don’t matter. You can tell more about a person from the things they do right here and now, than you can from the past that eventually defined them as the people they are today.
Trevor traced his finger over Emma’s skin. She closed her eyes and let him explore her body, savouring his every touch. She could feel his desire on him as he circled around her like a shark. He was still hungry and not just for blood and Emma could feel it. Then Trevor pulled her into his arms, lightly kissing her forehead.
“Yes. I did tell you that.” Emma said a little irritated. It wasn’t the reaction she was going for.
Trevor pulled back from their embrace, his red eyes still intense with concern and curiosity. “What happened?”
Emma told him. She felt that he was more amazed than surprised, somehow that irritated her a bit more. “I have to grow up one day you know. If you’re going to need some rest, I can’t be the helpless victim all the time. Someone’s got to make sure your sparkly lil ass doesn’t combust during the day remember? Or have you taken that part out of my job description?”
It was Trevor’s turn to be irritated. It was true. When he found Emma, she had been the victim. She had always played the victim for most of her life. When he decided to take her away from the city to be his servant, he did it in part because he wanted to fix her up. Like a wounded hatcling that had fallen down from a tree. He would nurse her back to health. The only problem with wounded hatchlings were that there was a chance that the mother would never accept them back.
That was what Emma’s life was now that she was with Trevor. She could never return back to a normal human life and they both knew it. For as long as she would be with him, her light would be forever changed. He hoped that along the way, she might eventually realise that she could be as strong as Trevor knew she was. It saddened him a little to realise that they day had finally come, but he was proud to know that she wasn’t being a victim anymore. As his servant, she was perfectly capable of taking care of all the daylight chores before, there was nothing wrong with her picking up new skills that were dictated by the turn of events. Killing zombies was just as important as picking up the groceries or paying the bills, it was just a different set of circumstances. Still, Trevor was irritated so he told her the first thing that came to mind.
“My ass does not sparkle.”
For the second time that day, Emma laughed her heart out.